


Nothing Felt More Natural

by eclecticanarchist



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: F/M, Fluff, M/M, Threesome - F/M/M, a bunch of god damn fluff, theres no actual frickle frackle im sorry its just a bunch of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-10 00:47:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2004420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eclecticanarchist/pseuds/eclecticanarchist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>R raised his head from his pillow to glare at them with bleary eyes. His sleep-addled mind flicked over everyone’s lack of clothing and the two of them grinning wickedly at him. "Is this becoming a regular thing now?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Felt More Natural

Eponine yawned sleepily, adjusting herself in bed as consciousness crept up on her. It was then that she realized that there was a very warm, very solid presence pressed against her back, and bare legs tangling with her own. Her dark eyes fluttered open only to find a head of dark curls sprawled beside her, face down on the mattress, one arm draped over her hip. She smiled affectionately. For as long as she'd known him Grantaire had always slept like that, with his face buried in a pillow. She had no clue how that could be comfortable for him but he hadn't suffocated yet so he'd probably be fine.

She twisted around to see Bahorel's familiar face pressed against her shoulder. The larger man was snoring gently, cuddling against her, newly scarred eyebrow and all, and Eponine had to smile. Bahorel had always had a knack for getting in fights and last night was no different, she recalled as the fog of last night cleared. They'd been out at a bar, R was already more than halfway to being completely smashed and the two of them were close behind. A friendly game of pool had descended into a brawl, complete with broken pool cues, shattered glass and a split brow on Bahorel's part. Somehow they'd made it back to her place and somewhere between getting Rel patched up and going to sleep they'd had one of their increasingly frequent threesomes.

Behind her Bahorel shifted, nuzzling his bearded face into the crook of her neck. She scrunched her face at the brush of it against her bare skin. Bahorel had grown a beard as soon as he could, even though fourteen-year-old Bahorel with a patchy dark beard wasn’t anyone’s favorite. At least it looked good now, and felt good, she thought, remembering how it had felt on certain other places. Eponine grinned and elbowed him lightly, enough to make him grunt and open one dark eye at her. "'Ponine?" He asked groggily.

"Who else?" she replied with a smirk and he groaned, one hand coming up to ghost over his face. He winced as he brushed across the butterfly stitch on his brow.

"Shit," he said with another groan. "Where's R then?" He asked as he propped himself up on his elbows. He grinned when he saw the artist collapsed on Eponine's other side. He reached over her to poke the curly-haired man in the side. Grantaire grunted and buried his face further in the pillow, eliciting an amused laugh from Bahorel as he poked the other man again.

R raised his head from his pillow to glare at them with bleary eyes. His sleep-addled mind took in everyone’s lack of clothing and the two of them grinning wickedly at him. He muttered an obscenity, running a hand through his bedhead. "Is this becoming a regular thing now?" He asked hoarsely.

Eponine shrugged as he sat up and ghosted a kiss across her lips and then across Bahorel's before standing and stretching. Bahorel wolf whistled at almost the same time Eponine called a playful "Nice ass!" to him. He threw them a rude gesture over his shoulder as he made his way to the door. "I'm making coffee and breakfast if either of you rude bastards want any," he said, with a grin. "And thank you Ep I know I have a nice ass," he added, striking a dramatic pose for them against the doorway. Their laughter accompanied him down the short hall to the kitchen and put a smile on his face as he started getting things out for pancakes.

Eponine sat up, flipping a strand of chocolate brown hair over her shoulder as she stretched. She Bahorel and Grantaire were her closest friends united over rough pasts and unlucky romantic encounters. They'd been friends since high school, and had been there for each other through hell and high water. This whatever it was seemed like a natural continuation of that course. Nothing felt more natural than the three of them together, pale skin against caramel against bronze all moving together. They knew each other's bodies almost as well as their own by now, and sure they were usually drunk and sure they never really knew how to classify their relationship but it was a source of happiness and comfort for all three.

"C'mon then I want food," Eponine said as she swung her legs over the side of the bed, finding Bahorel's t-shirt from last night and slipping it on over her head. Bahorel chuckled, rooting around in the pile of clothing to find his boxers and follow after her as she followed the smell of pancakes and coffee to the kitchen. R had found one of Eponine's robes and had put that on, soft purple fabric only coming down to mid thigh on him. He was dancing around the kitchen, spatula in hand as he got down two mugs and poured them full of coffee. Eponine took her with thanks and went to sit on the counter, watching as Bahorel stirred cream and sugar into his mug.

"Your poor coffee," she said with mock sadness, "You've polluted it." The large man laughed, his white teeth standing out against his dark skin.

"You only say that because you prefer yours dark and bitter, just like your personality," he teased, coming over to lean against the counter next to her. She punched him in the arm, causing the bigger man to wince and pout at her with a wicked glint in his eye. "Grantaaaaiiree," he whined, "Eponine punched me."

"Now kids, you know better than to fight in the kitchen," R said with a grin. "Besides foods ready so come and get it or I'll eat it all myself." Eponine launched herself for the food, securing a plate and her mug and racing to the couch to get to the only fully-stuffed cushion left. Over the years two of the battered couch cushions had split, white stuffing leaking out every time anyone sat down until they were nothing more than an inch and a half of padding above the wooden frame of the couch. R was close behind her, landing half-way on her feet and almost spilling his mug in the process. Bahorel came in last, glaring at them as he took his place at the deflated end of the couch.

The playful animosity faded as the three of them tasted their food, Grantaire was truly the master of pancakes, and it wasn't long until they had all finished. The lounged around, Grantaire's head in Eponine's lap as she played with his curls and Bahorel flipped through TV channels. It was a pleasant morning shared with her two best friends, good food and a lot of casual intimacy. Eponine had never been more content.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no clue where this came from. I have never considered these three as a ship until one in the morning yesterday so ??? ???? ?? I hope you enjoyed ?? ? Also I suck as coming up with titles so I apologize


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